we're blogging at a bar
I'm afraid that if I tell my sister I think Zachary Quinto is gay I'll have to put her on suicide watch for the next week or so
I can feel you judging me through the phone.
dipping my christmas cookies in kaluha. santa would be proud.
i dont want to stoop that low. but my dick does.
i'm not sure when i reached "slam my own hand in the door" status but my half attached fingernail is not grateful.
The last thing I remember was paying off her younger brother not to judge me, then puking on his shoes.
How the fuck did I get back? Last thing I remember is being on some hot guy's shoulders yelling at girls shaking their asses
We'll talk about it later...
Being able to fart in her presence and not be judged is why I pay half the rent.
If only I could bank my drunk hookups for a sober IOU.
They ran out of toilet paper so I used the rug to wipe my vagina
ive decided that just saying "yes" when people assume I am something other than Caucasian will highly benefit my love life. last night I was native.
I jizzed in his mayonnaise and put it back in the fridge. Shouldn't have stolen my weed.
My sister can't give you a handjob and us still be bros.
This sucks! All of the twenty something dick I was getting went home when the university closed
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